


All Myself

by eyelikeamagpie



Series: Bittersweet Symphony [4]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Canonical Character Death, Inspired by Music, M/M, Prayer, Songfic, Wordcount: 1.000-3.000, Yiruma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-24
Updated: 2013-03-24
Packaged: 2017-12-06 08:47:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,089
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/733782
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eyelikeamagpie/pseuds/eyelikeamagpie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Dad, please. <em>Please.</em> I did my best. I did everything I could. I just... I know I did a hell of a lot of bad stuff, and maybe that doesn't make up for any of it, but... You brought Castiel back. You gave him a second chance. And a third, by now, I bet. I was just... why not me?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	All Myself

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by the piano piece 'All Myself' by Yiruma.
> 
> Main notes on the series idea can be found in the first fic in the series; Time Forgets.
> 
> This was also based on this heartbreaking post found on tumblr;
> 
> http://eyelikeamagpie.tumblr.com/post/46168639256/randomslasher-merrychristmaspeterpanda/
> 
> Enjoy~

It had been a long time since Gabriel had prayed.

After leaving Heaven, he'd been careful to stay off of the radar. Prayer had been the last thing on his mind, and even if he'd had the inclination, it was quickly suppressed by his resentment. Years of hiding and drowning himself in decadence had numbed the bitterness somewhat, but it was still present.

Until, of course, he'd died. Taken one for the team -or at least one member of it - so to speak.

'Team Free Will'.

He liked to think that his Father would have approved. Despite his own rebellion, his deliberate tendency towards sin and luxury, he liked to think that he'd done the right thing, in the end. Chosen the right side, found something - someone - worth fighting for. Saved the day, saved Sam. And Dean.

Death, though, wasn't much of a consolation prize.

It wasn't paradise. That was reserved for the humans, for God's favourites. Nor was it Hell, though, so he supposed that he ought to be thankful for that. It wasn't Purgatory, the realm of the dead, filled with abominations that should never have existed. It wasn't even obliteration. His being wasn't shattered and torn, strewn over the Earth to be re-used at his Father's leisure.

No. The cruel irony of his death had landed him in the pews of an empty church. Candles flickered in a neat line several rows behind him, the only source of light in the otherwise darkened room. It was a stark contrast to the blinding light of his own death.

"Funny."  He called. His voice echoed dully off of the beams arching above his head, rebounding back to him in mockery, still carrying the lilt of his own sarcasm. "Yeah, real funny. Regular comedian, aren't ya?"

There was no reply. He hadn't been expecting one; his calls had gone unanswered millennia ago, why should anything have changed?

He pushed himself to his feet, rising from the pew along with a faint cloud of dust. He knew the doors would be locked, but he tried them anyway, confirming the suspicion.

"Ya know, if you wanted to tell me something, you didn't have to wait until I was dead." He muttered, resting a hand against the solid wood of the door and huffing out a breath. "I asked plenty of times, didn't I? Never seemed to give a damn back then."

The stillness of the room remained unbroken, nothing but a faint echo to break the silence that followed his words.

"It's not like I didn't try to do the right thing." A step back from the door, and he was pacing the aisle restlessly in a bid to work off some of the nervous energy he felt. "I did. I really did. But, newsflash, doing the right thing sucks. I stand up for something good for the first time in centuries, and look where it gets me." A hand came up to run through his hair, rumpling it in an agitated movement. "I didn't ask for this. I didn't ask for any of this. I just thought..."

He trailed off, the fight going out of him, leaving him cold and alone. Slowly, he sank down onto another of the pews, looking down at his knees and breathing heavily.

"Okay." His voice was too soft, too quiet to echo now. "Okay, you want me to do this the old fashioned way, huh? I'm guessing that's the oh-so-subtle message you're giving me, here." He gestured around at the church.

Another rough exhale, and he pressed his palms together, closing his eyes. The movement was stiff, stilted, as though he was reluctant to give even that much.

"I tried, okay? I really did. I stood up to Lucifer, I helped the Winchesters, I helped Sam-" He stumbled a little over that name. "I was helping them even before all this, not that they'd ever see it that way, 'cause they're narrow sighted bastards, but I was. I- I did my best. And some stupid part of me thought that, if you were even bothering to watch any more, you might be proud of that. Of me."

Silence.

He suddenly, desperately wanted to hit something, to take out this renewed frustration on anything he could.

He settled for the doors.

***

Years passed.

The candles at the back of the room never burned lower, and the door held strong, no matter how many assaults it endured.

Gabriel thought that he might have lost his mind, had it not been for the fact that he'd survived worse.

"Dad."

He hadn't spoken the word with such sincerity for longer than he could remember, and he almost hated himself for that.

He was once more settled in the pews, eyes closed, but hands stubbornly unclasped. One lay along the line of the backrest, to assure that he wouldn't inadvertently move it.

"Dad, please. _Please._ I did my best. I did everything I could. I just... I know I did a hell of a lot of bad stuff, and maybe that doesn't make up for any of it, but..." His eyes opened and his head tilted back to watch the ceiling. "You brought Castiel back. You gave him a second chance. And a third, by now, I bet. I was just... why not me? I screwed up, big time, I know, but I tried to fix things." He took a deep breath. "And... and if not, just... if you could tell Sam..." A slight hesitation, before he changed his mind. "Both of them. Tell them both to keep fighting, to keep going. Make it so I didn't die in vain, yeah?"

The familiar silence was his only reply.

"Yeah. Right. Like you're even listening."

The archangel stood, turning his back on the room and heading again for the doors.

"Did you ever actually care? Did you ever give a damn about any of us?"

Bile rose in his throat, and his hands balled into fists, teeth clenched and eyes closed. Enough was enough. He wasn't going to stand for this any longer.

"Fuck, if you ever gave so much as two shits about me, then either bring me back or kill me properly, 'cause I can't stand this damned place anymore!"

He slammed a fist against the door, furious and painfully powerless.

It creaked open.

Gabriel could have sworn, in that moment, that he heard a voice eerily like his father's, echoing from the inside of the church and propelling him into the blinding light from outside.

_Very well._

**Author's Note:**

> Superguardians. Yes, I know. It will happen. It will.
> 
> I've decided to wait until the end of school, however, to prevent too much distraction - not long now - so it is officially on hiatus until exams are over.


End file.
